


Snakes, Sex and Socks

by Mishiees



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is perfectly aware of that fact, Crack, Crowley was in no way shape or form going to be able to carry through that threat, Fluff, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Not Beta Read, One Shot, Quote: Tartan is stylish (Good Omens), Socks, after sex - Freeform, socks are sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishiees/pseuds/Mishiees
Summary: Post-pleasure, Crowley notices that Aziraphale has committed the ultimate sin : He's wearingTARTAN SOCKSwhile they make love.Completely unacceptable.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Snakes, Sex and Socks

Breathless, Crowley collapsed on the newly miracle-d plush white bed. Face smooshing into the pillow as he tried very hard to get his corporation back under control. 

One hand did manage to slither out from underneath the demon’s sweat glazed form and grasp hold of the hand of the Angel who lay beside him. 

Aziraphale entwined their fingers, humming contently, as he wiggled into the pillows. “You really are quite wonderful at that.” 

Crowley snorted a laugh at the compliment, turning his head back into the cases, to hide the now deep blush creeping across his cheeks. “I’m a demon, of course I’m good at lusting you up.”

A tut followed by “Making love.” As Aziraphale corrected him. 

“I think it stopped being love sometime between me hoisting you up against the bookshelves, and you snapping your fingers and landing us here.” 

Huffing Aziraphale petulantly rolled onto his side, away from Crowley, tucking his arms under his head. “Must you always ruin everything?” 

Smiling at the cantankerous display, Crowley closed the gap between them, pushing his body against the other beings, proceeding to coil limbs around the warm, plush form. “Oh, come on, Angel. I was teasing.” His legs moved up to rub against Aziraphale’s before noticing something diabolical. 

Snapping up straight in the bed, looking down to the other’s feet, he let out a disgusted gasp. “Are you still wearing your socks!?” 

“Well… Yes. My feet get cold.” Like that lie was a perfectly justifiable reason to have tartan covered toes wiggling contently at the bottom of the bed. 

“You kept your socks on during sex!?” Came the strangled cry from the red head, who had never been quite so offended by anything in his life. “They’re tartan!” 

“You didn’t seem overly concerned while we were making love, dear.” Despite the soothing tone, Aziraphale had rolled back over to smirk up at the demon. 

“I was a little preoccupied! How could you do this!?” 

“They’re just socks, Crowley.” 

“ _ **Tartan Socks**_ ” 

“You have worn some to bed with me before.” 

“No, I’ve wore stockings and suspenders, not bloody tartan numbers.” 

“Well, I do have some suspenders for them.” 

Crowley paused mid retort to think about that before his brain was able to process that the Angel meant sock suspenders, not the kind he was envisioning. “We’re never having sex again.” He announced firmly. 

Only to be answered with laughter from Aziraphale. “Don’t make threats you have no intention on seeing through.” 

“I mean it. All of thisss…” He dropped into a hiss as he gestured down his body. “Is off the table.” 

“Of course.” The Angel placated his lover, gently patting Crowley’s chest in a way that had orange eyes glaring at him. 

“I’m serious, Aziraphale.” 

“I understand. No sex on the tables.”

“Or under them!” 

“Quite. No sex on tables, or under them. What about my desk?” 

“Well… Your desk doesn’t count.” Crowley mused. 

“I see. What about if we were to play that game you enjoy… What was it… footie? At the Ritz?” 

“Hmm, footsie, Angel.” Crowley said fondly. “Doesn’t count either.” 

Taking a long pause, Aziraphale asked sweetly, “And we had planned to escape to the countryside to enjoy a picnic together next week. Would a roll around on the blanket constitute a table?” 

“We can do that. That’s fine.” 

“Truly a man of conviction. You really do have me over a barrel on this one, dear. I don’t know whatever I will do with myself now you have taken away such pleasure. Very cruel.”

“Shut it.” The serpent growled, knowing the other was mocking him, but unable to keep the warm smile from his face, as Aziraphale smiled up so gleefully at him. 

Naturally they drew closer again. Stealing a passionate kiss from each other’s lips, tongues in a familiar dance as it deepened. 

Breathlessly pulled apart. “Are we going again?” Aziraphale asked, caring a delicate hand though Crowley’s hair. 

“On the condition that you take the bloody tartan socks off, Angel.”


End file.
